


An Oath in the Night

by TheRodentQueen



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21817459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRodentQueen/pseuds/TheRodentQueen
Summary: Thyme is a Cleric of Ambara, who rules over the night, oaths, and death. She was born a bastard to an Asamonian noble and never expected to fall into such an important role. Everett Herrick is the youngest Asamonian Captain at the age of 21. He thought his life was planned out for him. Then Thyme saved his brother fro death, and everything changed.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character





	1. Chapter 1

The temple felt lively today more than most days. Lady Par had done her best planning for the feast, or gala, as some would put it. Today was Saints day, the day where the kingdom found time to shine praise on their religious leaders, the chosen divine. Being in the capital of Celesda, Lady Par always had to have the grandest celebration in the kingdom of Asamona. In all honesty, the job should belong to Labella. She is after all the cleric of Alcar, the god joy and celebration. That being acknowledged, Labella was an unorganized mess, she could barely remember daily prayers, and only every exceeded at spellcasting. The very fact that she had even become a cleric was beyond Lady Par.  
Apprentices ran around in long flowing dresses tightened by corsets and three-piece suits. Clerics dressed in more ceremonial robes, colors shifting, dependent on the god they worshipped. A deep navy blue, a stunning forest green, a light periwinkle, a cherry red. All of these were expected, usual. It was the midnight black robe that stood out among the collection. It was the one -year anniversary of the arrival of the dark cloak’s wearer, yet she seemed despondent, separated from the rest of the crowd. While everyone danced, she lurked into the corner of the room, letting what little darkness there was consume her.

“Thyme, must it kill you to be happy for one night?” Lady Par questions, pursing her lips.

The girl laughs, a smile forming on her face. She lifts her hood with one hand, revealing waves of copper red tresses. With her other hand, she brings her goblet to her mouth, taking a deep sip.

“I’ve no idea what you are talking about,” she says. “I am enjoying myself immensely.”

“I’ve not seen you talk with a single person, nor have I seen you dance or sing,” Lady Par retorts.

“Despite what Vestana stands for, we do not all need a lover to be happy and fulfilled.”

“Social interaction is not a main precursor of falling in love.”

“Finding suitable love is always your goal, if I’m not mistaken?” Thyme says, her eyebrows raised in anticipation of a response.

“I would rejoice in finding a match for that untamed heart of yours, but that is not my goal tonight.”

“Hmph,” Thyme responds, letting herself fall into the wall.

Lady Par walks away, knowing a lost cause when she sees one. Thyme looks around the room. Commoners dancing with nobles, the divine dancing with the ordinary, all while covered in masks that hide their faces. Still, the mask one choses tells more about a person then any glimmer in their eye could. Thyme grabs hers from the floor, a white mask, with black cracks running through it, making it reminiscent of broken bone, the left side curls up above her eyes, forming the shape of a crescent moon. She found her way past the dance floor and out of the temple, instead reveling in the cool night air. She walked in the streets, only stopping when a young child pointed to her. The mother looked up; her stare fixated. No one had seen a cleric of her variety in years, making the fascination less than surprising. Thyme walked up to the small child, who had long ebony hair and dark brown eyes. She opened her palm, and in the middle held a silver coin. The young child smiled grabbing the coin from her. He showed his mother in excitement.  
Thyme continued her journey, making her way to the edge of Celesda, to the great east river. The whole city was practically an island. It was surrounded by two rivers which happened to intersect in two spots, creating the pocket of land the capital was built upon. This was Thyme’s favorite part of the city, smelling the saltwater as she saw the dim fire of the bridge guards. Even on a night of celebration it was quiet and peaceful, something Thyme valued greatly.

“Excuse me,” a voice calls from behind Thyme, causing her to turn around. She sees a young man, about six foot two, brownish-blond hair, and a wolf mask covering the upper half of his face, only leaving his strong jawline and brilliant azure eyes to be seen. “You wouldn’t happen to be a cleric?”

“Yes,” Thyme says, hesitance in her voice. She pulls her hands behind her back, out of her sleeve she pulls a sigil bracelet, just in case. She was used to her share of the anti-religious, angry that a god blessed a sibling or some other person, or maybe a curse was left on them. It didn’t matter which god did what, they tended to loathe all Clerics in general. It made for some intense interactions.

“You wouldn’t happen to know Lady Par?” He asks.

Thyme let out a sigh of relief. He wanted to be matched for marriage. He probably couldn’t get an appointment with her, considering her clients were book for a whole year.  
“I can’t get you a meeting, if that’s what you desire,” Thyme answers.

“I would pay you well for your time,” he replies.

“You should know better than to bribe a Cleric with coin.”

“Who said anything about coin,” he responds, pulling a necklace from his pocket. At the end there is a small bottle, within it, silver flakes that filled three quarters of the container. Thyme steeped closer, grabbing the necklace, though the man kept a strong hold on it. She inspected the contents, when she realized what they were, her eyes widened in disbelief.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Tonight” he specifies.

“That’s a hard bargain,” Thyme says. “Lady par doesn’t work on Saints night.”

“It has to be tonight or no deal.”


	2. Chapter 2

Fireworks shot into the sky, sparks falling like comets. Labella looked at her handy work. Her grin went from ear to ear, her brown eyes sparkling, and not just from the reflection of the colorful show. So often she felt useless. In times of war, most people found little to celebrate. While she had spent the majority of the night in the temple, she now ran around the Solstice Plaza. She found the closest agreeable man and grabbed him, pulling him to the square to dance. Her bright yellow robe flared as she swirled around.   
Her eyes widened at the sight of Thyme Lasair weaved her way through the crowd. The girl was a wallflower at the best of times. Behind her, a man in a wolf mask followed. Labella felt a smirk creep upon her face. She had lived adjacent from the girl from over a year and had barely seen her talk to anyone outside the temple. 

Of course, there was no doubt her unruly temper had something to do with it. Thyme was lucky she was a Cleric, at least in that regard. With a tongue as venomous as hers, she would have never found a proper man to take her as a bride.Labella on the other hand, mourned such a fate. Of course, she loved to serve Alcar, but ever since she was a child the thing she craved more than anything was a man to love her and a child to care for. While it wasn’t impossible, Cleric hood made it a rather challenging affair.

Labella was snapped out of her thoughts by the sudden silence that overtook the sky. Shaking her head, she crumpled a strand of rosemary in her hand and whispered an incantation. Once again the sky bursts into colors, and the people in the square turn in amazement. Labella once again returned to dancing, spinning around like she was a princess.


	3. Chapter 3

Lady Par was less than excited at the prospect of working on Saints night. She was already playing a role of hostess and a ceremony was a complicated affair. That being said, Thyme was a force to be reckoned with, and always found a way to have a favor owed in her back pocket.

“You owe me for that séance on Veiling night,” Thyme had reminded her. Lady Par had been trying to match a widow with a young nobleman but had so far failed, as the woman refused remarriage due to the love she felt for her departed husband. If it hadn’t been for Thyme the match would have been doomed.

Lady Par, Thyme, and the man all sat, surrounding the Alter of Vestana. Tapestries lined the walls of the room and the air had a reddish tint to it, only amplified by the dim fire that was lit beneath the statue of the goddess. The stone was carved into an angular face framed with flowing curls, and a body that was lush and full.

“By taking part in this ceremony, you agree to abide by all of Vestana’s laws,” Lady Par iterates. “Do you Understand?’

“Without Question,” He replies, his face like stone.

He offers her his hand. Lady Par picks up the golden hilted dagger in front of her. She slices it down his palm, feeling the skin break from beneath the blade. His blood feel into the fire. A loud ‘boom’ echoed through the room, and the three fell backwards. The flame had risen far above the head of the statue. The top of the fire swirled into a black ink color, as an ombre feel over the flame, making the bottom a fog white. Lady Par sat up. Slowly, she looked deeply into the fire, caught in a trance. As the flame flickered her eyes widened. She reached out to touch the flame, but as her fingers teetered the edge, the fire disappeared, leaving charcoal smoke in its wake. The man lunges forward, grabbing Lady Par by her shoulders.

“What did you see?” His voice desperate, pleading for an answer.

“Not a face or a name,” she says, pushing him away.

His head falls, and he balls his fists. His muscles tighten in pain as his nails dig into the wound on his palm.

“She has strong blood,” The man looks up at her, confusion in his face. “A divine spirt that walks the lines of two worlds. Loyal but defiant. This is what I see.”

“How can I find her?” He looks to Lady Par. He is on his knees and to Thyme, it almost looks as if he was praying.

“You can’t,” Lady par explains. “Your fates are intertwined. you will meet exactly when you are supposed to.”

His eyes begged for more, for anything. Thyme felt a pang of pity hit her chest. People saw Clerics as all powerful, but they had their limits. They only know what the gods want them to know, They can only do what the gods want them to do. Lady Par shakes her head, patting the man’s shoulder. He pulled himself up, thanking Lady Par before turning to Thyme. The golden trim of his wolf mask reflected the light of the fire, giving the metal the color of a sunset. He pulled the bottle out of his pocket, handing it to Thyme. His fingers lingered for a second before moving.

As he pushed passed she whispers, “I hope you find her.”


	4. Chapter 4

Thyme was up before the sun the following morning. For the first time in a year she was going to visit her father. He had been hesitant to let her leave in the first place. Her stepmother, on the other hand, was a different story. Her father had been begging she come home in letters for months now, and she thought she’d surprise him with a visit as his birthday was around the corner. 

She made her ways to the stables near the River Guard. She tied her food and pack to the saddle of her horse, Shadow. Father had given her as a gift on Thyme’s tenth birthday. She had been a faithful companion through the years and would serve her well on the fortnight journey home. 

Labella was to come with her but would be leaving two nights from now. They would meet up in Leona in a week, and travel to Gracewin together.

Thyme mounted Shadow and made her way to the East River. When she got to the bridge, she waved for the guards to open, showing her sigil that was held by a string that wrapped around her middle finger and traveled down her hand, till it tied around her wrist. As soon as the guards saw it, their hesitation faded, and they opened the gates for her. 

Thyme rode at a pace of 12 miles an hour. There was a small town about two days out that she’d be able to rest in, but till then she had to camp out. After a good few hours she took a break by a small stream, letting shadow rehydrate herself, and refilling her canteen. Thyme saw footprints in the mud at the edge of the water. She took note of travelers in the area, though she hadn’t seen anyone for miles. Thyme started moving again, not wanting to be thrown off schedule by something as mundane as another traveler. Her mind always leaned on the side of caution, to an annoying extent, if she was being honest. 

The rest of the day went off with much commotion, and Thyme found a fine spot to set up camp. After she said her daily prayers, she set up a trap, and an hour later had snared a nice sized rabbit. It was an enjoyable dinner, though Thyme hadn’t been used to hunting for a long while. Rosemary would look down on her, no doubt, but she relished the feeling of independence that the ability to access food gave her. 

There was no rainfall, and Thyme hadn’t packed anything to pitch a tent. It was a lot to lug around and she could make a tent out of a blanket, and large branches if need be. That wasn’t the case tonight, and so she just laid out her sleeping pack and fell asleep after gazing at the night sky. 

The next morning, Thyme set off a little after sunrise. Like the day before, she traveled for hours without a sign of anything other than nature. 

That change at noon.

She saw smoke coming from what looked to be a small clearing past the forest that surrounded the small stream she had been following. Despite it being against her better senses, she pulled shadows reins, and turned towards the forest. 

Before Thyme could make a clear decision, she hears a blood-curdling scream coming from the stream. Thyme headed towards the scream without thought, locating it within two minutes. She sees a young boy flaring about in the water. Then something pulls him underneath. Without thinking, she jumps in, pulling the dagger off her thigh. She sees a blue mollusk, a tentacle wrapped around the young boy, who has gone limp. 

She takes her dagger and slices through the creature’s arm. Grabbing the under arms of the boy she pulls him out of the river. As soon as she lays the boy on the ground, she’s pulled under by the creature’s remaining arms. She cuts the first one easily, but the second grabs her hand. She swims forward, slashing the head of the creature. Her vision, already clouded by the water, fades with the mixture of blue blood and black ink. With a final ,movement she barriers the dagger in the creature’s head. The succulent pods on the arm still hold her. She pulls out the dagger and swipes through the dead arm. She rushes to the top of the river, gasping for air as she pulls herself out of the river. 

The boy. She picks herself up and looks over him. His breath is shallow and uneven. She runs to Shadow, grabbing her pack off the horse. She grabs a mixing bowl, sage, olive oil, and the silver scales out of the bag. Tearing the boy’s shirt, she rubs it on his chest, She takes her dagger, slicing her hand and letting the blood fall on the boy. She whispers a spell, a prayer, as her hand falls on the boy’s chest. The scales shine a brilliant warm light, and then settle back to silver, and the boy’s breathing returns to normal. 

Thyme falls back breathing a heavy sigh. She takes a minute to recuperate herself. She takes a bandage out of her bag, wrapping it around the cut on her palm. She hisses at the stinging felling. Gods how she hated blood magic, though it was all she ever seemed to do. 

The boy starts to cough loudly. He turns himself to his side, obviously waking up. Thyme moved to help him but is stopped by a sharp blade at her neck. With everything that happened she hadn’t heard anyone come close. ‘Carless,’ she thought. 

“What did you do to him?” a male voice asked, shaking with rage.

“I saved him,” Thyme angrily replies. 

For a split second the man is caught off guard. Thyme takes her opportunity. She elbows him in the stomach and pushes his forearm from her neck. She grabs his wrist and twists it behind his body, kicking him in the back and into the ground.

“Stop!”

Thyme looks up to see the little boy, fear in his eyes. 

“Please don’t hurt my brother!” he begs. 

Thyme kicks the dagger away from the man. She moves backward enough that she wasn’t an immediate threat but could move if he became violent again. 

The Little boy runs up to his brother, who soothes his shoulder. From the distance she can see the relation. Both had chestnut hair with blond streaks that curled in the front, and magnificent azure eyes that made her cerulean look pale and dull. The man was in a military uniform with two bronze and one silver bar on his collar, a captain. That was rare at his age. 

“It’s okay, Everett,” the little boy explains. “She really did save me.”

He looks to her, regret apparent in his eyes. He gets off the ground with a grunt and moves towards Thyme. She stays defensive but relaxes slightly when he puts out his hand. 

“Sorry for the misunderstanding,” he says, guilt in his voice.

Thyme was about to respond, but a familiar cooper taste caused her to gag. She lurches forward as blood spills out of her mouth. Her knees buckle and she falls forward, feeling the cold wet ground beneath her. She grabs her stomach and groans. She figured she’d have more time before it happened. Enough to get away from the young boy. No one should see anything so grotesque at his age. Of course, not even Thyme had expected to be puking blood, but a price was a price. 

The man runs to her side. She lets the rest of her body fall to the ground. She can see him saying something, maybe to the little boy. He looks down at her, worry in his eyes.

It was the last thing she saw, as she squeezed her eyes shut from the pain. It was all she could feel, a constant throbbing, as if someone was setting off explosives inside her stomach. There was only so much she could take before she let darkness take her.


	5. Chapter 5

Everett Herrick picked up the girl from the stream. The campsite was only a few minutes away, and it was better he carry her than drape her body over a horse. He could keep her head to the side that way, so she didn't choke on her blood.

He ordered Henry to get her stuff and bring her horse back to camp. His brother stood still for a minute, staring at the bloodstained ground.

"Henry," he yells, snapping the boy out of his stupor. Henry quickly scrambled to grab her things, and within a minute Everett heard his small footsteps trailing behind.

As Soon as he walked into camp he brought the girl to the infirmary. Jonathan Par, the cleric of Salvitas, the god of life and health was there, as always. It was good fortune to have a military cleric, though it was often assured when traveling in a even in a group so small.

Jonathan's eyes widened when he saw who had been set down on the table. Her head fell to the side as she coughed out more blood on the white linen.

"What happened?' he asks.

"I don't know," Everett says. "Henry was on the ground and I saw her whisper some words I didn't understand, then something started glowing. We fought for a good minute, and then she just started to vomit blood."

Jonathan grabbed the tea from the table behind him. He motioned for Everett to hold her head up, which he did. Despite her seemingly unconscious state, she manages to take in the liquid, before coughing up more blood, though considerably less than before.

"Goldenrod tea, good for clotting."

"What's wrong with her?" Everett questions.

"She's paying penance," Jonathan says, nodding his head in disappointment.

"Penance?" Everett's brow furrows.

"She'll be fine," Jonathan promises. "She just has to ride it out."


End file.
